His Majesty's Pet/Know Your Place
Zarbon did the honors himself. They had given the boy a day to heal in the rejuvenation tank, but as with before, he wasn’t fully healed, and he didn’t feel at his best when he woke. But the stabbing pain was gone at least. He was still so very tired. “Kneel,” he whispered in the boy’s ear, pushing him hard in the shoulder to the ground. Vegeta winced, his knees buckling under Zarbon’s force. Frieza’s back was to them. Sipping from his glass, he gazed out the window at the deep of space. “I was beginning to think we had lost you, Vegeta,” the Arcosian breathed. “Nailo found him, Lord Frieza,” Zarbon said. “It appears Vegeta allowed his space pod to be destroyed. He was marooned on the planet for almost a week–” “Aha, I bet you think we left you there, didn’t you, Vegeta?” Frieza finally turned to face them, his tail curling through the air. “It was Zarbon who proposed we send someone to find you, did you know that? Good thing he did. I thought you had died.” Gritting his teeth, Vegeta did not look up. “I-I failed you, Lord Frieza. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” “Tell me, Zarbon, was the planet cleared when your man found him?” “Yes, Lord Frieza,” the man replied breathlessly. “Vegeta was the only living being on it.” “Hmph. That was a difficult planet to clear. Well done, Vegeta. You may rise.” But I didn’t clear it… He did, still unable to to meet the tyrant’s eyes. “B-but… there were space pirates there too, my lord. Th-they–” Zarbon was glaring at him. Trying to maintain his dignity, his cheeks two deep pools of emerald, he flung his face about, his ponytail flapping desperately. “It’s true, Lord Frieza! Nailo saw the corpses. Their insignias identified them as members of Kiwano’s Gang.” “So they were, eh? Very well. This problem is getting more serious by the day. Tell me, Vegeta,” the emperor said, turning, walking over to the boy, “what were those pirates like to fight? Were they powerful?” “They were space trash,” he muttered. “Oho?” Frieza held a hand to his mouth to prevent him from laughing. “The doctors tell me you nearly came back to us in a body bag. If the pirates didn’t hurt you so, who did?” He quivered with paralysis, heat flushing his cheeks. I won’t break so easily. Vegeta knew he couldn’t say a word. Zarbon’s eyes were boring through the back of his skull, reading his thoughts. “I…I…” Lord Frieza patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You will finish healing tonight and be ready for combat tomorrow. Zarbon, tell Ginyu to schedule it for tomorrow. Vegeta, you will go with Ginyu and the others.” “Yes, Lord Frieza,” the boy said, flinging his arm against his chest in a prideful pose. “I will clear any planet you wish!” The tyrant’s voice dropped. “It’s not a planet I need clearing, my silly little Saiyan. I want the man those pirates worked for. Find Kiwano, kill his men, and bring him to me, alive or dead. I don’t care which.” “Y-yes, Lord Frieza! I also need to tell you that I know where the pirates’ hideout is.” “What?” Frieza’s eyes lit up. “Go on then, Saiyan. Speak.” “Lighuri Finh.” “Lighuri Finh,” the emperor repeated in a dread tone. Flicking his fingertips together, he sighed and looked away. “I imagine you don’t know the significance of that planet, do you boy?” Vegeta shook his head. “It’s where the Ginyu Force lost their fifth member in a recent military operation,” Zarbon said placidly. “I was promised there were no space pirates there, nor would there be any more in the future,” Frieza complained loudly. “Very well. Zarbon, alert Abo and Kado about what has happened and have them destroy the planet from orbit. Although it’s unlikely Kiwano’s currently residing in a frozen place like that. He always did prefer the tropical outposts…” “L-lord Frieza…!” Zarbon said, startled. “Lighuri Finh is one of the largest farming worlds in the empire. We get more the ten percent of our food stores–” “Zarbon, do shut up and follow your orders for once.” Oh, that was good. He got him good. Zarbon bowed and stepped back. Vegeta’s heart burst with pleasure seeing the man’s face darken in shame. He’s so pathetic. I’ll kill him for what he’s done. Pathetic cowards like that don’t deserve to live. “Ginyu will lead the expedition. My son will go with you, as will Nailo, Aranya, Orlen, and your big Saiyan friend. Oh, and your new partner will be coming along too.” “My new partner?” “I’m still so dreadfully sorry your last partner was lost on Planet Vegeta. So I’ve gone and found you a new partner, my little prince, one who will undoubtedly push both you and himself to greater levels of power as you train and fight together.” “Oh?!” “Lord Frieza, I thought I would be allowed to–” Zarbon interrupted. “You may leave now, Zarbon,” Frieza said coldly. “Relay the news to Ginyu and the Guacamole Brothers.” Vegeta smirked, turning his head away from them so Zarbon wouldn’t be able to see. “As you wish, Lord Frieza,” the man said hollowly. That was like getting slapped in the face. Pretty boy deserved it. Setting his empty glass on a table, Frieza hopped back into his hover chair. Another door leading into this room, this one coming from the left wall, opened, and in walked a Nyarin boy with striped blue and black fur. “Vegeta, this is Asaio. Asaio, this is is Vegeta.” The Saiyan wasn’t the best at remembering everyone on the ship, and considering he hadn’t been here for very long, he still hadn’t learned all of their names. The boy who wore black, gold, and blue armor was someone he had never met before. Walking over to them, he bowed before Frieza and stood opposite of Vegeta. “Get to know each other,” their master whispered. “The winner gets to be Ginyu’s second in command.” Lord Frieza gave Vegeta a look. They bowed before their match. The Nyarin’s form was wild, cat-like, open, his arms pulled back, his shoulders leaning forward. Vegeta assumed his usual Saiyan fighting form, which was more restrained, but altogether more reliable. His foe didn’t say a word before jumping left, moving so fast, Vegeta could hardly see him. Taken aback by such aggression, he spun on his heels to block, catching the other boy’s wrists just in time. Kicking Asaio’s legs, he forced the cat alien to jump away. Breathing hard, Vegeta wiped the sweat from his eyes. He wasn’t fully healed, and as such, his muscles still ached and reacted sluggishly, especially when he had to strain himself like this. And there was the second humiliation: this boy was just as strong, if not stronger than him. Jealousy overwhelmed him. He wanted to be the strongest warrior in the universe. It was bad enough he hadn’t surpassed Zarbon yet. He would not lose to Asaio. They rushed each other again, this time on the ground. Vegeta parried Asaio’s blows, but he could tell that Asaio’s blows were strong–his gloved hands tingled and burned from where the Nyarin’s fists had hit them. Yelling, Vegeta used all of his strength to feint to the right and shift to the left. The boy fell for it; Vegeta punched him hard in the cheekbone. Stumbling back, Asaio spit blood from his mouth as more ran freely from his nose. Dripping purple down his chin, the blood didn’t seem like it was letting up. He leaned forward, letting it drip onto the metal floor. Vegeta was nearly out of energy. He had one more attack in him. Now was the moment; he ignored the pleading in the muscles in his arms and legs. Vegeta got a running start, jumped into the air, and angled his flying kick down upon the back of Asaio’s head. As his foot slammed against Asaio’s skull, it went right through, and he felt nothing. It was only after the Nyarin had teleported in front of Vegeta and elbowed him in the chest that he realized his folly. The boy felt both impacts–the elbow and then the floor, and neither hurt at first. He gasped for breath, fought to stay awake, all as Lord Frieza watched him from the hover car, looking down on Vegeta, a broad smile on his face. The pain hit. He bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming. Asaio landed next to Vegeta, bowing again for Lord Frieza. “Very good. You just defeated a very powerful warrior, Asaio. Well done. Your second-in-command post is well-deserved.” “Thank you, Lord Frieza, I won’t disappoint you!” the cat boy said, his voice high and determined. “As for you… Vegeta.” His tone had changed. “Get yourself to a rejuvenation tank. You will be ready by tomorrow, do you understand me?” “Yes, Lord Frieza.” Days on a spaceship were little more than a measurement of hours. There was no night or day, just a standard military clock set to the day cycle of Arcose. He had sixteen, maybe seventeen hours. Almost all of that would have to be spent in the tank, he knew. His ribs hurt again. It hurt every time he breathed. That Nyarin had cracked them again. Rage swam through Vegeta’s head and vision. He hated Zarbon more than ever before. Asaio held out his hand to held Vegeta up, but he refused. Not looking the other boy in the eyes, Vegeta grit his teeth and got to his feet, swallowing blinding pain for the sake of pride. He bowed stiffly, turned, and limped out of the room as fast as he could. ---- “No he didn’t!” Kuriza whined. “No he did not!” “He did,” the Nyarin said plainly. “Go ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” “Hey, settle down, Kuriza!” Ginyu said sternly. “But both Nailo and Vegeta are stronger than him! Why would he be the second in command?!” “Because I beat Vegeta,” Asaio said simply, shrugging. He looked altogether uninterested in this conversation, annoying Kuriza even more. “Nailo’s probably stronger than me, you’re right. But Lord Frieza trusted me with this role, so who am I to question him?” There was a certain lazy carefree nature to Asaio that made Kuriza dislike him. He was a little too casual. “What happened in your fight with Nailo?” “He got us by ring-out in like three seconds.” Nailo, who was sitting in the corner eating a leg of meat off the bone, his teeth cutting with unchecked ferocity and precision. Elsewise, the training room was sparsely populated. Ginyu and Asaio were there, and Orlen and Aranya were training lightly on central sparring mat. Aside from them, Nappa and a soldier were having an animated discussion near the weights. But there was no one else around. “Then fight him again.” “He’s definitely stronger than me,” Asaio said quickly. “Hey, Kuriza, remember, we’re heading out on the mission tomorrow. We can’t have half the team beaten senseless before we set out!” “You’re right, Ginyu. I’m sorry. In that case,” he said, “get your sister.” “Wh-why…?” “We’re going to get Recoome while he’s sleeping.” Asaio grimaced, laughing nervously. “Um… okay.” Watching the cat alien wander off over to his sister, Kuriza folded his arms and cleared his throat. He was here to learn, as his father had put it. He was to observe and ask questions, and become a ruthless and evil tyrant prince. Such was his father’s wish, and it was a wish Kuriza was most eager to fulfill. There was nothing he hated more than disappointing his father. He was stronger than anyone here, even Ginyu at his peak. Of course, he’d need to transform into his final form for that, but there was no need. In his restrained form, the same one his father preferred to use, the one his father had taught him when he’d been too young to remember anything, Kuriza’s power level was over 50,000. He usually hovered around 15,000-20,000 when he was not powered up. This was a comfortable number, putting him above all of the regular, and most of the elite warriors. He didn’t need to be the strongest–he needed to improve his mental reaction times, his tactical thinking, and his battle strategy. All of this, Ginyu would teach Kuriza on this trip, just as he was bringing along the others to test them (without them knowing, of course) to see if any of them would be acceptable recruits for the Ginyu Force. He promised Ginyu he wouldn’t tell them about that last part. “Tell me about Kiwano,” Kuriza mused, his eyes still on Asaio’s back. “I want to know all there is to know about him.” “Ah, of course, Kuriza, you know I like to tell history!” Ginyu said, clearing his throat. In truth, Kuriza should have listened to his father’s report on Kiwano during last week’s meeting, but his mind had always tended to wander when Lord Frieza rambled. There was something about Ginyu’s voice and non-verbal passion that held his interest. “You know, he used to work on this ship, right?” “Uh huh.” “He was an elite warrior–one of Lord Frieza’s most trusted hen… ahem, I mean soldiers. He could clear any planet in a single day. Sometimes he could even clear two, if they were close enough to one another. He was a highly-proficient warrior, but I don’t think I ever saw a bit of style out of him!” “Shame!” “Yeah! That guy had no style! Good riddance, I say… only he went and became a slaver after he defected!” “Filthy casual!” “He’s got himself a crew now. Not surprising, due to his power.” “Oh, Ginyu, you never told me what his power level is.” “Eh, let’s see… 24,000, I think. Maybe upwards of 27,000.” “Oh. That’s all?” “I didn’t say he was the greatest terror this universe has ever seen. That’d be you, my prince!” Kuriza was beaming. He jumped onto Ginyu’s shoulder. He loved being the captain’s right-hand Arcosian. “Can I kill him? Can I, can I, Ginyu?!” “Heh, you got it, kid. But you gotta be fast. The others’ll want to kill him too.” “I’m faster than any of you!” “Don’t tell Burter that, kid.” “I know.” Burter freaks out if anyone mentions how everyone in my family’s stronger than him… But that was okay. At least, for Burter’s sake, there were so many people in Kuriza’s family, he couldn’t remember them all. It didn’t matter. Burter’s probably one of the twenty fastest soldiers in the empire. He’s not bad, the boy reflected. The Nyarins returned. Aranya bowed before Kuriza who looked down upon her like like a ghost atop his chair. “Hello,” he said to them, not bothering to temper his attitude in front of them. He was going to be the emperor one day, after his father (and his uncles and grand uncles and nephews and nieces and cousins) died, so he had to practice imperial grace like this. He loved making people afraid, but the girl had no such look of terror on her face. Her lack of reaction intimidated Kuriza severely, and he forgot what he was going to say next. “Hello.” Aranya’s one was firm, but neutral. “So what’s up?” Asaio asked casually. “I have to go to bed early tonight, so I want to do this now,” Kuriza explained. “Do what, exactly?” Her youthful pink eyes, like fresh flower petals, stared into his with cool determination. How someone weaker than him could do this, Kuriza did not know. It wasn’t fair. But to acknowledge his weakness would be to prove her point. Blinking, he said, “We’re getting Recoome.” “''Getting'' him? What do you mean?” “Getting him back. He stole my space chocolate eclair for breakfast this morning. I want to do something to him while he’s asleep.” “Like what?” asked Asaio. “I want to shred his honor! I want everyone to see him for the chubby, slobbering disgrace he is!” Kuriza said, pointing his arms wildly into the air, half crouching into a pose of epic, empiric proportions. “I want to make him look stupid!” “Well, that’s easy. He already looks like a total fool,” Asaio shrugged. “Watch yourself, Nyarin,” Ginyu said in a deep voice. That’ll do, Captain, that’ll do. “How can we help you do something like that?” “Like this.” He tossed each of them a permanent space marker. “My granddaddy makes these markers in his spare time, he’s an alcoholic,” Kuriza explained. ---- The four of them crept to the Ginyu Force’s quarters like space rats racing the countertops after Lord Frieza goes to bed. Burter and Jeice were playing a high-stakes game of sniraakSniraak is a card game that is popular in pirate gambling circles and is often played recreationally in space bars. While it is partially luck-based, this game has been popular amongst petty gamblers and high rollers alike for millennia. Its origins are ancient and certainly unknown. in the outer room, which was larger than most other soldiers’ entire rooms. Three doors lay on the far wall, each leading to a double-bunk bed. In one, alone, Recoome slept. Recoome enjoyed his beauty sleep, and tonight was no different. Especially on the eve of a spanking new mission (as it were), he would have gone to bed five or six hours ago, and wouldn’t wake until the ship arrived at Planet Frieza 137. “What are you guys doing, eh?” Burter asked. He’s so sharp. His awareness is on point. I need to mimic that. “Nothing, Burter. Uh, get back to your game,” Ginyu said quickly. “Don’t mind us, and don’t let anyone else in here.” “Wha…?! Who else would be coming in here?” “Nobody likes a snitch, Mr. Blue Hurricane,” Kuriza shouted from Ginyu’s shoulder, pointing to his own eyes and then to Burter’s. “U-um… okay, sure.” “Oy mate, will ya make yer play already?” Jeice whined. “Come on, I’ve been waitin’ all day!” “Sorry, sorry!” Just like that, Recoome’s defenses were laid bare. His face looks like space poodoo. The four of them crept into the room, locking the door behind them. Recoome was wearing earplugs, eye covers, and to top it all off, a space avocado mask from his forehead to his chin. Kuriza attempted to hold his composure, but he quickly failed. Giggling uncontrollably, he leaned against Ginyu’s head, trying to remain as quiet as possible, but failing miserably. “So what should we do?” “I didn’t know he had a mask…!” Kuriza whispered before his voice broke and his laughter grew louder and higher with childish glee. “I wanted to draw on his face…! Now what can we do?!” “Why don’t you tattoo something on him?” Aranya said, nudging her brother. “Something embarrassing, y’know?” “He’ll wake up,” Ginyu protested. “You kids are stupid as–” Kuriza got a sudden rushing desire for nokashi. “Not if we give him a jab of this,” the girl said playfully, pulling a small syringe with bright yellow liquid in it out of her pocket. The tip was still sealed. “What the…? Is that Uncle Muscle’s Sleepy Time Mix?!” Ginyu was aghast. Kuriza’s heart was in his throat. He was so excited. “Yeah.” “That’s contraband!” Ginyu said with patriotic fervor. “I should report you to Lord Frieza for taking that out in the presence of a stylish officer!” He quickly assumed a formal and rather angry pose. She rolled her eyes at him, giving him a look. “Come on, Captain.” “Fine.” Like a blur, she stepped forward, pulled back the needle’s guard, and stuck it hard in the side of Recoome’s neck. He woke up the moment it went in him (as they all do, so Kuriza had once been told), but as soon as the Sleepy Time Mix was in his bloodstream, he was back out again, snoring loudly, his mouth agape. Kuriza found Recoome’s teeth to be plump, gnarled, rotten monstrosities and he would have liked nothing more than to knock roughly eighty percent of them out. That would certainly make him feel better, and he hated not feeling good, especially since he wasn’t even the emperor yet. Ginyu flipped Recoome over, getting avocado all over his pillow. “Kado’s shitlogs!” he cursed bitterly, the stench of the homemade space durian and space avocado blend making even Kuriza’s nose burn a little (but only a little). The big man’s butt was pointed in the air, but no one thought to adjust him into a less humiliating pose. Like, he struck a pretty arousing figure in that position, no? Had Recoome been a Saiyan (and he half-looked like Nappa’s third cousin), he would have had a tail, but instead of that tail, he had nothing but, as Uncle Cooler liked to call it, “that backwater swampass, that rotten space spaghetti”. For unknown reasons, perhaps apocryphal, Asaio had chosen this spot to get to work. He pulled a pair of goggles from behind his ears, and wrapped them around his head, over his eyes, almost as if he’d done this a few hundred times before. The outer rim glowed with light, illuminating Recoome’s backside where he most certainly did not have a tail. He was a big boy, but Asaio isolated a spot just above his butt which he knew would be perfect for a space tattoo. Kuriza performed the dance of revenge to marginal acclaim atop Ginyu’s shoulder. Aranya hardly looked at him, and he didn’t like that at all. Why is she ignoring me? Doesn’t she like me? I’m her prince! She should love me… why doesn’t she…? He didn’t like it one bit either how Asaio was getting all the praise for this plan he had come up with. It was a long wait, and Kuriza had little to do but count Ginyu’s head veins in the meantime. He was meticulous in his work, as he always was (this was the number one reason his father loved him, he knew). It was a trite affair until Asaio pulled out his tattooing equipment, which he had conveniently had on him for a sudden situation such as this; like a surgeon, or perhaps a whore-sodomizing, wandering space artist living on a stupid space dream, he held his tools up to Recoome’s flesh, poking with graceful, painted strokes. His hands were the hands of a true artist. His hands are so steady. I could never be so calm, especially under this much pressure. He is quite impressive… just like his sister, truthfully. I may have to take them both… “It’s done,” he sighed some time later, wiping his forehead after making several deft slashes and cuts with the two metal brushes, glowing blue from the radiance of their glorious self-powered lights. What was now permanently attached to Recoome’s skin was, to Kuriza’s beautiful green eyes, one space-badger lying on top of another. “What is it?” the boy asked awkwardly after a second, not understanding the joke. “They’re, uh, wrestling,” Captain Ginyu said majestically, his body shaking with heavy laughter. “Just think when he wakes up and realizes what happens, hah, he’ll know you got him good.” “Dya really think so?” “Recoome won’t steal your eclair again, trust me,” Ginyu said lightly. “Now, let’s get you to bed, my prince. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” “Oh, of course! We must get our rest, Papa says!” He swung about wildly, nearly falling off Ginyu’s shoulder, but he was never so careless ever to actually do that. “You two,” he said, pointing at Aranya and Asaio. “Excellent work tonight! You have brought honor to your bloodline! You have pleased me greatly!” he said very formally. “I will let my father know that you both deserve a promotion!” he shouted in strict monotone. “Um… thanks,” Asaio said easily. “Yeah, we appreciate it, sir.” Kuriza and Ginyu left the Nyarins at the door out of the Ginyu Force’s quarters. “So, what do you think, Kuriza? Not half bad, eh?” “I suppose,” the boy said, stifling a yawn. “I’m still not sure he’s the best for second in command. What about that Nailo guy?” “Him?! Hah, he’s Zarbon’s lapdog. I’m only bringing him because Zarbon asked me to. He’s not gonna be one of my men.” “Why though?” “He has no style. That lizard’s a killer alright, but he lacks grace. You either have it or you don’t!” “He don’t!” “That’s right, Kuriza.” “Very good, Ginyu. Did my father tell you how many of 137’s soldiers we could take with us?” “Oh?” Ginyu scratched his chin. “I hadn’t thought of that… ha, I’m sure we could take as many as we want!” “Good,” the boy replied. “You will show me how to lead an army, Captain Ginyu, won’t you?” “Heh, it’s what Lord Frieza pays me for. Trust me, by the time we find Kiwano, you’re gonna be the most fearsome warrior in the universe, aside from your father! It doesn’t take long for the warrior’s spirit to set in! You just need a little practice.” Weariness was descending upon the boy’s consciousness, and he was finding it hard keep being fancy. He wondered if that were true, and if his father had had to go through something like this when he had been but a boy. Had he always been so ruthless, so cunning, so unafraid? Or had he been weak, once upon a time? No, somehow, Kuriza didn’t think so. ---- Sharlyk waited for them to come around the bend in the path, those useless sycophants. Sweating, holding blasters, they lacked the necessary fear-provoking presences one would hope of guards. He blew them apart with a blue energy grenade. The forest caught on fire. He was in the air. “Swarm them now.” He clicked his scouter off, not waiting for a reply. The outpost came suddenly from the forest, like a patch of dead skin. Captain Opacho was standing on the balcony of the main building, a hand on his brow, shielding his vision from the sunlight. Sharlyk landed next him, the air roaring about. His fingers went up, each pointing at Opacho’s guards. They fell with single ki blasts to the throats. “Hello, Captain.” “Sharlyk…! I thought you worked for Frieza!” “No longer. Thanks for keeping the native population well-fed for us. We do appreciate it.” “Y-you’ve become a slaver…?” Cracking his neck, Sharlyk laughed, raised a claw, and formed purple energy. “Did you expect any less of a space-badger?” He tried to run. Sharlyk’s attack burned through his cape, coming out the other side, leaving a burn mark on the metal wall. The captain fell, his blood trickling down the tiled ground. Sharlyk was in the air again, joining the army in decimating the outpost from above. His ki was green and black and blue and red, burning with untested power. The buildings fell one by one, like candles being snuffed out. When it was over, the scouters confirmed there were no survivors. “We’re good,” Sharlyk said. “Move fast, or the Ginyu Force’ll be on our backs. Let’s go, boys! Got a whole city worth of laborers ahead. They’ll sell well on the market. Trusty, dependable, lots of stamina.” He sucked in a breath, anticipating the payload. “We’re going to be rich. No one screw this up, okay? If you do, I’ll leave you here.” The last building fell. Smoke rose over the rubble into the mist of the fresh morning, the sky a peach-pink color. Sharlyk took a heavy breath in. The thrill of the hunt was on. He hadn’t been tested in a long while. He wondered where his next challenge would come from, whether any of these captains would prove to be worth their ranks. He pressed on, through the mist, to the slave camps, leading the way. ---- The Prince awoke standing in the rejuvenation tank room. Ginyu, not wearing any armor, was standing with his arms folded in the corner. “Sleepwalking again, eh, my prince?” “My apologies,” Kuriza replied breathlessly, looking around. In the tanks before them were Asaio, Vegeta the Saiyan, and the new recruit Guldo, all healing up for the morning. I wonder where Malaka is. Probably sleeping. I wonder if there are any doctors on the night shift around here. Somehow, he didn’t think so. “I wonder what brought me here. Usually I end up in the kitchen when I sleepwalk on Father’s ship…” “My power level,” Ginyu observed. “I’ve heard Lingon was teaching you to sense energy intuitively, without a scouter.” “Yes, yes,” the prince replied, yawning. It’s not going so well. Perhaps I am just a slow learner, the boy thought sadly. “One of these three will be the newest member of your team, won’t they?” “Yep, that’s the plan, kiddo.” “Why not Aranya?” Ginyu smiled. “I know you want her for your team.” The boy’s grin was equally gleeful, though it made him feel tired all over again. “I should have brought Lingon with me. He knew best how to deal with my sleepwalking…” “Here kid,” Ginyu said, flipping over to him a thin silver flask. “Drink that.” “This is space brandy, isn’t it, Ginyu?” “Yeah.” “You do understand that I am a child?” Kuriza asked him. “I have only ever had small sips of diluted ice wine. Papa hasn’t even let me had a taste of the vintage ChillroseChillrose wine (sometimes referred to as ice wine) is a type of wine cultivated exclusively on Arcose. As of Age 700, seventeen unique flavors of Chillrose wine, including one owned by the royal family, were being produced. Chillrose is considered to be a more elegant flavor of wine than most (perhaps due to Arcosian prestige) and is too expensive for anyone except highly-successful space pirates and high-ranking imperial officers to afford.–” “Trust me kid. When I was your age, I used to down this stuff all the time, and it did the trick for me.” “Yeah, yeah,” the boy said dutifully, clutching the cold metal against his leg. “Well anyways, I’m off to bed. Get some rest, captain. You’re in charge of the expedition. You must be in peak mental shape.” “Hey now, I’m always in peak mental shape!” Ginyu whined, spinning around and looking up from between his legs. The Arcosian Prince giggled and bade him goodnight. I miss Lingon, he thought as he trudged back to bed. He always told me the best bedtime stories. There was a sense of unease rising in his chest. Fear that I won’t like it? Or fear that I will? ---- “Prince Vegeta, you are fully healed,” Malaka rasped. He shook his hair dry with a towel, scowling. “What time is it?” “Just turned twenty-three cycle. You should have been asleep hours ago. Get going, before I report you to Frieza.” “Whatever.” He shouldered his armor, not bothering to put on more than his jumpsuit and boots. Walking off down the dim-lit halls, he was comforted by the silence of it all. It had been a long time since he’d had some silence in his life. The constant barrage of aliens, all of them vile, all of them trash, was enough to make him want to puke. On the bend just before his quarters, Vegeta came upon an open door leading to an inner room. Blue light was cascading out from within. He stopped in the shadows, his heart in beating erratically. “Are you sure? You have scanned all of those planets for signs of life, and–” “And nothing. He’s not there.” “Where else could the king have sent him?!” Zarbon. That’s Zarbon. “It’s possible he sent Prince Tarble to a remote part of the galaxy, anticipating what you are trying to do now.” And that’s Gichamu. They’re talking about Tarble… Zarbon wants to find Tarble. His fists clenched. Heat rose from beneath his collar. It took all of his willpower not to run in there and get himself killed. He was barely able to contain a scream, crouching in the shadow of the open door. “You’re saying a random destination?” “Possibly.” “We’ll expand the search, then. I’ll send more scouts as well. This is taking entirely too long. I will find that pesky monkey, and he will see the bottom of my boot.” “As you say, Zarbon. Send Nailo while you’re at it.” “Nailo? No, he’s far too important for me here.” “I think I know why.” “Do you now?” “You’re a lot less clever than you look, Zarbon. Goodnight.” Gichamu came out the door a moment later, going left. Vegeta, anticipating this (for left is where the higher-ranking officers’ bedrooms are, of course) hung back around the bend in the hallway, sticking to the shadows. The engineer did not see Vegeta. Two minutes later, Zarbon exited as well, closing the door behind him, disappearing left into the shadow-clung bend in the hallway. Vegeta crept forward, moving to the door with silent speed. Zarbon had not locked it. He slipped inside effortlessly, leaving the door ajar in case he needed to make a quick escape. The lights came on, and a blue starmap of the Planet Trade Organization flashed online, revealing the territories of Lords Frieza, Cooler, and Nitro, the three brothers who ruled the universe. A mysterious black region also took up the center of the starmap, but there was no explanation for as to whose territory that was. It was nothing for him to find Zarbon’s files on Tarble. There were detailed reports on planets scouted, planets eliminated from potentially harboring him, planets without a chance, planes with high probability… he was thorough, and in that thoroughness, Vegeta understood how much Zarbon detested him. He had paid several bounty hunters from outside groups–mostly the Galactic Fighting Guild–and given them orders that if they found Tarble, they were to capture him alive and bring him back to Zarbon for the bounty. He’s doing this all for me. He wants to break me… “H-hey, Lord Zarbon, it’s almost twenty-four cycle, I–” Vegeta froze, his momentum spinning him in the chair slowly. The guard peered in and saw him, and knew. Vegeta couldn’t say a word. “O-oh, Vegeta…? What are you doing in here? This area is off-limits for soldiers–” “N-no…! Don’t…!” He choked on his words. There was only one choice. It was kill or be killed. Vegeta’s fingers glowed purple with tiny energy balls. He teleported to the guard, releasing his energy while simultaneously slipping around him, using his agility to spring into the air, wrapping a hand around the man’s mouth, muffling his screams as the energy hit. He struggled, but Vegeta was far stronger. His power level’s not even 2000. Pathetic. He let the seared corpse fall to the ground. Descending, Vegeta continued to breath hard. This was a problem, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Someone would notice this guard was missing soon. What could he do with the body? Could he incinerate it? Would that high of a power spike draw someone’s attention? They all wear scouters. If I raise my power level above what is common for sparring, they’ll notice. I can’t risk that. But… what were the other options? Stashing it in the ship somewhere? Someone would eventually notice. Would they blame it on space-badgers, or would Zarbon initiate an investigation? With how much he hated Vegeta already, there was no chance he wouldn’t focus on the boy and try to break him. Such an option was unsavory. They can’t find the body. “Oh, hello.” Vegeta wanted to scream. In the doorway, the janitor stood. He could see clear as day Vegeta standing over the corpse of the orange-skinned guard. “Please…” Vegeta whispered. “I don’t want to have to…” Blue energy pooled in his palm. “Settle down. Vegeta… that’s your name, isn’t it?” The man was green-skinned with bushy black hair and bright blue eyes. He was overweight, looked like a bit of a slob, but he had a smooth voice. He stepped into the room, pushing his cart, and closed the door behind him. “What we have here is a very volatile situation. One that must be addressed immediately.” “I know that, old man.” “Do you know how to dispose of bodies?” “I can burn them, but that’ll attract too much attention.” “Quite right, especially since you’re by yourself.” “I don’t know what to do.” “Don’t worry about it, Vegeta,” the plumber said with a wide smile. “I have access to the space-ejection ports. Let me take care of this.” “Wh-what…?” Vegeta was stunned; he felt slightly numb. Why is this guy helping me? Is this some kind of trap? “Obviously, we should both keep our lips sealed about this incident,” the plumber said. “But I do wonder. What made you do it?” “He caught me in here,” Vegeta said, his tone hushed and guarded. He still wasn’t certain about this guy. Why should I trust him? “I couldn’t let him know I was in here.” “Why were you in here, though?” The plumber moved to the body, looking it up and down. Without hesitating, he slung it over his shoulder, bringing it to his cart, and stuffing it inside. “I…” Vegeta watched the man with mild revulsion. He seemed well-practiced at doing that maneuver, almost like he’d done this a few times before. “None of your business.” “Come on, Vegeta. I’m risking my life to help you dispose of this sticky situation. Can’t you give me a little clarity?” Silence followed. Father always said trust no one. “Zarbon’s searching for my brother. He wants to capture him alive and bring him back here. I know he wants to kill him in front of me. I have no way of stopping it…” “Do you know where your brother is?” Vegeta nearly snorted he was so annoyed. “Hmph. My father sent him to a distant planet because he was a disgrace to the bloodline. We were never going to see him again.” “I see.” The plumber returned to the door, his hand on the knob, ready to open it. “You know what you have to do if you want to keep your brother alive, don’t you?” Vegeta shrugged. “You have to find him first. And then–” “Yeah, I know that part.” Vegeta looked away, feeling heat on his face. “Get on to bed then. If another guard catches you, ain’t nothing I can do about that.” “Right.” He left first. The plumber no doubt followed him as Zarbon had followed Gichamu, and every one of them was lost in the dark of his imagination. Vegeta stretched to think about his last memory of his brother. It had been a while ago. He had only seen the baby once. I remember the look of disappointment in Father’s eyes. Sudden anxiety surged through Vegeta’s veins. It had been that look that made him train so hard. Father never spoke of him again. He called Tarble a disgrace and said there was no chance we’d ever see him again. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for him to have asked his father where he had sent Tarble. But now he regretted that he hadn’t. Vegeta returned to his room without feeling tired. His blood was running hot from this whole affair. Asaio and Aranya were taking up two of the beds in the quad-room. Both slept on the top bunks. Orlen had taken one lower bunk. Vegeta sat on the edge of his bed, setting his armor and gloves down on the end table. Climbing into bed, he pulled off his shirt and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. That was when Serindë came to him. The servant was lithe, blue-skinned, pale as the dawn. Her hands were on his, massaging his muscles, loosening his tension, working his body to a restful mode. He knew all about her, though this was his first time. It felt good. His heart was pounding. She never said a word. He closed his eyes, arching his back. Her hands on his made him shiver, and not just because she had been trained to do this, but because feeling another person’s touch, something that wasn’t a punch or a kick, was something Vegeta hadn’t felt in a long time. He shivered again, and she acted like she didn’t notice. That fat guy was right… I have to find Tarble before Zarbon does. But how…? His mind returned him to that starmap, which was as vast a region of space as there was in the universe. There were hundreds if not thousands of worlds they would have to explore to thoroughly scan the entire region. It would take Zarbon’s scouts years–perhaps even decades–to sift through all of them. How can I compete against all of his scouts? I won’t have much free time… I can’t just slip off the ship and go looking for him all the time… Vegeta didn’t know what to do, and that worried him. He sighed and his eyes grew heavy. Serindë’s touch was gentle and full of love. He wanted to cry. It was easier to sleep, so he did. ''' Appendix''' __NOEDITSECTION__ Category:Fan Fiction Category:Canon Respecting Category:His Majesty's Pet